Chasing Sunsets
by mintteas
Summary: Through a treaty of alliance, the eldest royalty of Narnia and Archenland must be wed. But when Victoria is forced to play her twin sister's role, she finds herself unwillingly falling for the young High King her sister is meant to marry. Peter / OC
1. Prologue

Is it right to let other people dream for you?

I've always wondered. Day in, and day out, people seem to plant different expectations for me – some pile up, growing more and more ludicrous each day. Political expectations, royalty expectations, expectations from a woman. Dreams fit for someone who might one day become Queen.

Is it right for you to not know who you are?

I've always wondered. People always tell me who to be, how to act, how to speak. I am different around different people – different around my father, different around a young guest, different around an elderly, renowned guest, different around my family when we talk about my mother. But when I sit in my room and glance at the mirror, who am I? Who am I when I am alone? How will I know?

Is it right for you to fall in love?

I've always wondered. Everyday, I see the pain in my father's eyes – a grief beyond all telling, a scar that only the end of a lifetime can heal. A pain caused by too much love that has been thrown away in one fleeting moment, when a person passes from this world to the next. Everyday, I see the love my brother has for a woman who disappears too late at night and returns too early in the morning. Everyday, I see my sister falling out of love with the idea of love, falling deeper in love with the love for the steel blade and the thrill of battle.

Was it right for me to have done what I did?

I've always wondered. I wonder what might have happened if I had told my brother when I had seen his lover in the shade of a grove with a man that was not him. I wonder what might have happened if I had one day brought up the topic of my mother's mysterious death. I wonder if it was right for me to agree to take my sister's place – for a night only, she promised – in that meeting with the royalty of Narnia. I wonder if it was right for me to have deceived, to be deceiving, and to surely continue deceiving the High King of Narnia.

Was it right for me to have fallen hopelessly in love with the man my sister was meant to marry?


	2. Chapter 1

The sun hung bright in the sky, painted a vibrant shade of azure. Not a single cloud marked the perfect high sea of blue, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple as the hot air blew around me, hitting my face and my neck. Such was the weather on this particular summer's day in Archenland, as I watched my sister dance with my brother in the exact stroke of noon.

But this was not a lavish dance of balls and banquets and barons, in gowns of silk and satin swirling around the shining floor of a grand marble ballroom. Nor was it a dance of light-hearted leisure is the garden, barefoot on the dewy grass and twirling in a cool afternoon amongst the blossoms. No, this dance was different. This was a dance of pure strategy and cunning, the movement of chain mail and the sharpened edge of steel. Sand blew across the training field, disturbed by the temperamental breeze.

Another loud clash of metal rung through the humid air – like a knife, it tore through the thickness of the low-hanging heat. I found myself staring at the result of a just-concluded spar, a sword lying on the ground, the flat of the blade reflecting the light from above. In the center of the training ring stood my brother, chest heaving with labored breath and a triumphant grin on his young face – an expression directed towards my sister, who stood empty-handed and scowling deeply.

"I call a rematch," she growled sourly. "You cheated."

"Cheated, me?" my brother looked appalled. "Dear sister, with all due respect, there was no need to cheat on you. Perish the thought, really."

"You-" My sister started, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, her fingers curling into tight fists.

"Now, now, Aaliyah," My brother smirked. "We can settle this without any violation of lady-like manners and such. Victoria, don't you agree that I won fair and square?"

"That's not really a fair question, is it?" Aaliyah demanded hotly.

"Keep quiet, we're letting our sister decide."

My eyes travelled back and forth between them in a dizzying match. My sister stared at me, silently communicating her thoughts through eye movements. My brother caught on, and exclaimed.

"Excuse me! None of that twin sorcery you always do," He cried. "Victoria, the verdict, if you please!"

I stared hard at my sister, then let my apology shine through.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "But he didn't cheat, Aaliyah. Not that I know of."

"Yes! Oh, come now, don't be such a bad sport!" He chortled as my sister's scowl deepened tenfold. "If it makes you feel better, I almost broke a sweat this time around."

"Oh, just be quiet, will you, Caleb?" Aaliyah snapped, crossing the ring to pick up her fallen sword. "It's bad enough that I've been betrayed by my own mirror image."

A wave of guilt swept over me. But what was I supposed to do? Lie?

Caleb retreated into the shade and took a seat beside me, splashing his face with cool water from a nearby basin.

"Don't feel too bad, Victoria," He patted my shoulder heavily. "Sometimes, it's good that you jump out of Aaliyah's back pocket. You should really do it more often."

"Yes, but don't just hurry on and slip into Caleb's," my twin sister argued, joining us in an escape from the heat. She slipped off her slightly loose helmet, letting down her mane of light, golden hair, similar – no, identical, really – to mine. With a disgruntled expression, she flicked a few droplets of water at our older brother. "Besides, I have my rights to Victoria's partiality. We're pretty much the same person."

"On the outside," Caleb chuckled. "But she isn't a crazy, loudmouthed princess with a bad attitude and an inappropriate love for the field of battle."

"You make it sound like my training is a bad thing," Aaliyah challenged.

"Well, no, not the training," He conceded. "Just the loudmouthed, crazy part."

My sister opened her mouth – most likely to argue – but then the arrival of a handmaiden cut her off.

"Forgive me, your majesties," she squeaked, while performing a quick curtsey. "But the king would like to see you all in his throne room to discuss some urgent matters. If it would please you."

"What matters?" Aaliyah asked.

"The king did not say, Princess Aaliyah. He only asks to see you immediately."

"Well, then, we should go immediately," Caleb stood, wiping the remaining droplets of water off his face with the front of his shirt.

"Very good, Prince Caleb," the handmaiden curtsied once more. "I shall inform the king that you are on your way."

She exited, and we were once again left alone, speculating what the summons was all about.

"I wonder what matters could be so urgent?" Caleb mused thoughtfully.

"Do you think we're under attack?" Aaliyah said, with inappropriate excitement. Caleb rolled his eyes.

"I hope not," I frowned, not relishing the thought of another war.

"Besides, don't you think if we were at war, I'd know?" Caleb added.

"No," Aaliyah snorted. "You're always too busy chasing down Lady Layla, who, by the way, has this absurd propensity to snea-"

"I think it would be best if we all just cleaned up quickly and hurried to father. Don't you?" I interrupted, shooting my sister a dark look. She sighed and made an unhappy face, but proceeded to trudge out of the training area. I followed, with Caleb treading not far behind. We parted ways at our chambers, and I followed my sister into our shared bedroom, where she began unstrapping her bulky armor.

"Don't tell him, but I think Caleb gave me a good whack across the shoulder, could you have a look at it?" She grumbled, slipping off her mail. "Bloody brutal, that man."

"You were the one who asked him to _'not go easy on you'_, as I recall," I smiled weakly as she sat down and exposed her shoulder – true enough, her cream-white skin was marred with a horribly dark red blotch, the curved dent of the backend of a blade still dug deep. "But you're right, that does look terrible."

"I don't care how it looks, could you just do something about the pain?" She moaned, pressing it down lightly and wincing.

As I gathered a basin of hot water and some ointment, I spoke in a voice I perceived as nonchalant. "You know, Aaliyah, this probably isn't the worst kind of injury you could get from all this fighting."

"What do you mean?" She mumbled distractedly, running a brush rather savagely through her hair, pulling at the knots for all her life's worth.

"I mean that, compared to the wounds people get from ugly wars, your little smack from the blunt end of Caleb's sword would probably be equivalent to a kitten's fiercest licking," I sighed, pressing the hot towel against her shoulder – she bit her lip and turned pink, trying to stifle the sound of pain. "And compared to a real life battle, this strenuous sparring of yours would probably just be a little stroll in the gardens."

"That's why I'm training," She reasoned, making a face as I spread ointment across her back. "To get better at it. And to become a real warrior. To be able to fight for Archenland."

"There is no necessity for a princess to fight," I replied quietly.

"Yes, there is, Victoria," She turned in her chair and gazed up at me, her eyes glinting with something that resembled fierce determination. "Don't you ever feel that there's more to life than parties and councils and sitting properly at all times?"

"There is," I agreed. "But I'm sure that it doesn't involve fighting."

"Well, what does it involve, then?"

"I don't know," I contemplated for a moment. "Falling in love, I suppose."

"Falling in love is for airheaded heiresses and loony, childish people," Her eyes snapped to me as I stared patiently at her reflection in the mirror. "Not that I'm saying you're loony, or anything."

"I understand."

"My point is that I want to be of use, Victoria," She sighed. "If I am to be Queen, I must assert myself. I want to be a figure our people can look up to. Someone who can fight for their rights, not just bat their eyelashes and get their way like a spoiled little brat."

"I'm sure you could fight for their rights in a way that doesn't involve someone's death," I answered. "Especially not yours."

"What good is that? What good is talking to someone who won't listen?"

"I'm not sure. Clearly I'm experiencing it right now," I said, amused.

"See, exactly!" She cried, hopping up from her stool in front of the mirror and placing her attention entirely on me. "I don't need a man. I don't need to fall in love. I need to do what's right for my kingdom. I need to do what's right for myself. A woman must be able to fight for the things she believes in, too!"

"I admire your radical feminism," I sighed. "But you have to come to terms with the fact that you can't do everything. And also that marriage is a very stable, reasonable way to fulfill yourself."

"I appreciate your words of wisdom, Victoria, but I can't see it. And I won't. I'm tired of people telling me what to do. I want to do things my own way."

She slumped back down into her seat, locking her fingers in an extremely stubborn knot and began tugging. We were silent, and as I watched her pull violently at her hair, I could hardly believe that we could be classified as twin sisters.

Oh, yes, we looked so alike. From head to toe, we were more or less a carbon copy of one another - long, golden hair with a tinge of brightest copper, pale skin, sharp, grey eyes and small lips, pinched forward as though we were always pouting. Neither was taller than the other, nor slimmer, nor whiter. The only physical difference that would perhaps identify us was the small scar on the back of Aaliyah's left hand – a souvenir from a reckless race between her and Caleb on the beach, which ended in her falling into a shallow sand crater and cutting her hand on a nearby boulder. Caleb had laughed, of course, until he saw the blood forming lines on her skin. Then it wasn't as hilarious.

But behind the wall of physicality was the human manifestation of night and day. She was a strong woman – a fighter, tough and agile, quick and brave. She would never turn down a fight – in fact, if being a lady did not forbid it, she would start them on purpose, just to have a go at someone. She did not despise being a princess, only having to act like one. A firm believer of the female warrior, Aaliyah trained constantly in the art of war, so that she might one day be able to serve her kingdom by leading the army.

I, on the other hand, had no intention whatsoever to involve myself in any form of mauling, sparring, or general pain infliction. However, though I worried for my sister's safety, I could not deny that her cause was valid and, truly, patriotic. In this sense, her reason for wanting to fight was undeniably admirable.

With a final tug, she had released her hair – it hung around her face, framing her small jaw and rosy cheeks – red from the sun, and from the effort of fighting. I smiled weakly at her, then went to her closet and pulled out a dress – from the mirror, I saw her wince. Another ladylike tradition. Skirts were, perhaps besides Caleb on the training field, her worst enemy.

"You can hold the skirt up a bit, just as long as you don't make it obvious," I said as she began to slip it on. "It's not a formal meeting anyway."

"I know, but everyone will be watching me anyway," She grumbled. "They have eyes all over the place, so that once I make the slightest move to hitch it up, they'll come swooping down like a hawk and cluck at me like a hen."

"Apt comparisons."

"Thank you."

"Well, you know that you're a princess, and you're in charge," I reminded her. "You could just tell them to butt out."

"Oh but that language is far from appropriate," She replied sourly.

"True, but it's your kingdom," I assured her. "No one can _really_ tell you off unless they want a painful execution."

"That _is _slightly more comforting."

A rapid knocking came from outside, followed by Caleb's impatient voice. "Would you ladies hurry up in there? The world could be ending and you'd still be lacing up your bloody corsets!"

I opened the door, just in time for him to stop in his next bout of rapping on the wood, his fist raised slightly.

"What's taking so long?" He demanded.

"Well Aaliyah had this –" But I remembered she'd asked me not to tell. "Had this, um, problem. With her hair. Knots and all."

It was a poor save, but anything seemed like a plausible excuse to Caleb, as long as a woman did it, and it sounded like an alien female ritual.

"Well, hurry it up, knots and all. We haven't got all day."

"It's easy for you to say, Caleb, you're a boy!" Aaliyah stood, rolling her eyes and walking to the door.

"And don't you forget it, miss!" He shook his head. "Come on!"

* * *

><p>My father sat in his throne, drumming his fingers with an air of impatience. He did not look up as we arrived, sitting down on the circular table in the center of the room. Council members stood as we arrived – not out of reverence to us, but as a sign that the meeting would finally begin. We all stood in silence beside our seats, waiting for my father, who seemed too lost in deep thought. When his head finally lifted, he eyed us and gave one quick nod. We sat down quietly, not speaking, not looking at one another in the eye.<p>

"Council is officially in session," One elderly man croaked. "And we have summoned here the son and daughters of Royal Archenland. Let us begin."

He said nothing more, but bowed his head as if in prayer.

A slightly younger council member spoke up. "So far we have made progress with the ongoing treaty. The Council of Cair Paravel has agreed to a long-term bond between the forces of Archenland and Narnia. They have conceded to providing us with military force and free trade in all routes, provided that we should offer the same services. Does anyone in the council deem this unreasonable?"

A lot of murmuring and head shaking ensued.

"Indeed, we have all agreed an alliance with Narnia would be favorable to us – favorable as it borders on necessity," Another spoke, and many changed the shaking of their heads to vigorous nodding. "But a mere contract is not enough. What if the Narnians go back on their word?"

More murmuring – this time, louder, angrier. _Yes, the Narnians could go back on their word_. _Yes, they seem like treacherous folk._ _Barbaric accusations you say against the Narnians that keep the food on your table and the Telmarines from your kingdom, sir! The Narnians could very well be barbaric in their own right!_ _Hush! The thrones of Cair Paravel would not stand for such abominable lies!_

"Whether or not you believe the Narnians will go back on their word is irrelevant to me," my father suddenly spoke, seemingly perturbed by the flurry of mad words. "But what we need now is an army that promises strength enough to keep the Telmarines from the land. And I will not have your petty, lacking biases against the Narnian royalty put my kingdom and my people at stake. Reserve your judgement against the Narnians for your own quarters. I call this council not to ask for your opinion, but to announce the next step in this alliance."

"The next step, my king?" the previous member asked. "Should it not be enough that we have constant communication and contact with the Narnians?"

"It is not," Another, much older council member interrupted. "And I assure you, Lord Byorn, that though you stand in your right to doubt Narnia's loyalty, the Narnians themselves lack faith in the Archenland Council as well – and it is council members like you that cause such disturbances in an otherwise peaceful alliance."

"I beg your pardon, Lord Rhys, but I believe my speculative judgment against Narnians is reasonable, and, quite frankly, utterly necessary. Or has it not reached you that the High King of Narnia is but a third of your age?" Lord Byorn said contemptuously.

"Only a pompous, ignorant fool such as yourself would rely solely on age to doubt the entire government of Narnia," Lord Rhys snapped. "But should you wish to continue your accusations against Narnia's High King and his council, do so by all means – however, I request that you do it outside the borders of Archenland. Or, better yet, enlist yourself in the Telmarine Army!"

Another bout of angry words flew from one end of the table to another. People had begun picking sides as to who was right and who was wrong, who was mad and who needed to join the Telmarine Army. My siblings and I sat, utterly befuddled, watching the group of old men bicker like two housewives fighting over a petty matter.

"Silence, silence!" My father roared, banging his fist on the armrest of the throne – not so much the act as the fury in his voice quelled the arguments, no matter how bitterly they ended. "You call yourself a council? Or do none of you know nothing about the manner in which my advisor should behave?"

A small silence met his words, but he continued on. "Lord Byorn, Lord Rhys is right. In our treaty with them, we have prospered much. But imminent war is looming, and the Telmarines are preparing for battle. Shoring up our defenses is not enough. We must seek lasting aid from the Narnians."

"If I may, my liege," the first council member who spoke had seemingly awoken from his trance and addressed my father. "I have spoken to High Adviser Brinn of the Narnian Council, and he has agreed to your ingenious suggestion for cementing the ties between Archenland and Narnia. He is relaying it to the High King of Narnia as we speak."

"Very good, Lord Groft," My father said, in what I assumed was a manner synonymous to praise. "And so we move to the present matter. I have come up with a plan to ensure Narnia's full and unwavering support, in an alliance extending generations. Should any of the council disagree that it is favorable to us?"

The members of the council shook their head – some, rather reluctantly.

"Then it is set in stone – let it be known that I, King Edward Vythica of Archenland, do permit a long-term alliance with the country of Narnia by means of matrimonial bonds."

A pregnant pause ensued, only to be broken by the voice of my brother.

"If I may speak, father," Caleb queried, and my father inclined his head. "But by whom should the duty of this matrimonial alliance be fulfilled?"

It was a rare occasion to hear my brother speak so formally – it seemed a struggle for him, a bit. Aaliyah spoke up, not bothering to flower her words with courtesy.

"But of course by you, Caleb!" She smirked. "You _are_ the oldest."

"The Narnians have a High _King_," Lord Groft pointed out. Aaliyah deflated, and Caleb grinned in a second triumph. "And according to Narnian tradition, the marriage must follow according to status as well as age. Hence, we must have a lady of the court be his bride. The eldest princess of Archenland must marry the eldest King of Narnia. Such is only right."

"Yes, but who?" Lord Byorn said accusatorily. "The daughters of King Edward are of the same age."

"One must have come before the other," Lord Groft stated. "Or should we simply offer the High King of Narnia two wives?"

I stared at my sister, whose jaw slackened – clearly, this went against everything she believed in; her feminist rights, her desire to free herself from the womanly standard, her hard work in training until her body was so bruised she could barely move.

"I don't believe the High King of Narnia would promote polygamy in his stance," Lord Rhys added. "It should be the eldest."

"Then it should be Caleb," Aaliyah snapped suddenly. "They're both boys, they'll get along splendidly."

"Aaliyah," I frowned at her. She cast me a look that translated into a command that I should stay out of this.

"No, Princess Aaliyah," Lord Groft shook his head. "It must be you."

"Why can't it be Victoria?" She wailed, her voice rising in pitch. "We're the same age. Practically born at the same time!"

"Practically," Lord Rhys echoed. "But the margin proves the older between the two. It must be you, Princess."

"No, but I can't! Isn't there another way? Why must we follow the traditions of Narnia? Why can't the eldest daughter marry Caleb instead?"

"Excuse me-" Caleb began, but was cut off by Lord Groft.

"The eldest Queen of Narnia is not yet open to suitors. And the younger Queen is not yet of age. To top fact with logic, we must consider that we are asking the Narnians for their favor, and not the other way around. Please understand, Princess. It must be you."

"No, I won't have it-"

"Aaliyah!" My father's voice rang across the entire hall, and we cringed. "Do not defy my council – for should you do so, you defy my will. Would you defy my orders? I am your father. I am your _king_."

"But father-"

"Aaliyah," I whispered. "Please. Don't start. Do this for your kingdom."

"But Victoria-"

"Please. Make this sacrifice for Archenland."

Her face turned a deep shade of red – anger was boiling up inside her, her eyes shining with tears of frustration. She had wanted to serve her kingdom – but not this way. Never this way. This was exactly what she had sworn against – a tie to another man, what more one she did not know, did not love. It was a pure abomination.

But it was law.

She took a shaky breath, then looked at my father. The corners of her mouth trembled as she spoke.

"Forgive me, father. If it is your will and the council's then I-" She cleared her throat. "I… will wed the High King of Narnia."

Caleb and I watched in awe as she sat down, bowing her head – her hair fell around her face, serving as a curtain behind which she could hide from the rest of the council.

"Very good," Lord Groft said. "Then this council is adjourned. I shall make the preparations for the travel to Cair Paravel at once."

The chairs scraped against the stone floor of the hall – one by one, the lords of the council left the throne room. Last to leave was my father, who had stood stiffly, glanced at us, and walked briskly out of the hall.

In silence, my siblings and I sat, still dazed by the most recent events. Aaliyah had not raised her head once since she had bent it. She was still, unmoving and silent, like a statue, like a woman in prayer.

Only the splattering of tears on her hands, resting on her lap, betrayed her as she was.


	3. Chapter 2

Days passed without large incident, due to the fact that Aaliyah barely exited our shared chambers unless it had to be cleaned. Even her food had to be regularly served to her in our quarters – a feat that caused the cook and the handmaidens much pain. On the eve of our departure to Cair Paravel, I walked into dinner, still missing my other half. Luckily, the dining hall was empty except for my older brother, who sat waiting for my sister and I to arrive. He looked up as I came in, his sharp eyebrows arching high on his brow, looking perplexed.

"Still no response from the future High Queen, then?" Caleb asked, picking up his fork. I shook my head as I sat down, laying a freshly pressed napkin across my lap.

"Not a word. You'd think she'd get tired of not talking at all. I don't know how she's doing it, and frankly it's concerning me greatly."

"Maybe she's sucked out her own soul," Caleb suggested. I shot him an alarmed look. "Just a thought. A… joking thought."

"Really, though, Caleb. I'm worried for her," My lips curled down into a small frown. "I don't think she knows that I know she sits awake in the ungodly hours of the morning, sobbing quietly. She's absolutely devastated."

"I can't imagine why," Caleb shrugged, and the nonchalance in his voice deepened my frown. "She's always going on about serving Archenland and all her bloody feministic ideals. She should be happy – her lifelong dream is being fulfilled in means that don't involve death on the spot. She should be jumping for joy and kissing father's feet, really."

"Oh, Caleb, how can you be so insensitive?" I chastised. "She's your sister, and she's suffering. How would you feel if you had to be forced to part from that Lady Layla of yours to marry the eldest Queen of Narnia, whom you've never met much less fallen in love with, all against your will?"

"As long as she's not a classic hag, I'll have no qualms," Caleb popped a grape into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Though I suppose girls look at things a little more dramatically than, well, normal people do."

"I won't allow that she's unhappy for the rest of her life," I picked at my food, thoroughly lacking appetite. "We must help her understand."

"Just tell her the High King's a real ladykiller or something," Caleb drawled.

"Why, is he?"

"How should I know?"

I sighed unhappily. "This is just terrible."

"Will you stop worrying, Victoria? She'll get used to the idea soon. And if not soon, then she has pretty much the rest of her life with him to do so."

"Really, Caleb, must you be so cynical?" I rolled my eyes. "Try to be a little more sympathetic, will you?"

"All right, fine, I will," He set down his fork and stared at me with what I presumed to be exaggerated empathy. "I feel horrible for our dear sister Aaliyah. Being forced to marry the most powerful man in Narnia to serve the kingdom she's pledged her life to is a tremendous burden I would not wish upon anyone. And it must be awful, having to live a life of high status where everyone is waiting on you hand and foot and all you have to do is look pretty for your royal husband – who, by the way, she has never met and therefore has no right to judge, on both looks and personality. Is that good enough?"

"I suppose saying you're absolutely impossible would be rendered moot at this point," I scowled. He shrugged and picked up his utensils again, cutting his way through a piece of tender meat.

"It would," He agreed. "But all joking aside-"

"You mean to say you've been pulling my leg all this time?" I gasped. "Why, I never would have guessed."

"_All joking aside_," He repeated, as though he had not heard me. "I do believe it's time we talked to Aaliyah about her behavior. We leave at dawn tomorrow and we can't have her chucking knives at the royalty of Narnia, can we?"

"A gruesome thought, but correct nonetheless. Shall we discuss with her after dinner?"

"Yes. We shall."

A short silence ensued, and Caleb took a sip from his goblet.

"Victoria."

"Yes?" I mumbled, distracted.

"You do realize that when I say _we_," He said slowly. "I mean _you_, don't you?"

* * *

><p>I was careful not to make any loud noises as I came into the shared bedroom. Aaliyah sat on her bed, mindlessly picking at a piece of parchment with her eyes glazed and directed out the window, towards the far horizon. She did not even acknowledge my presence, nor did she even bother to make eye contact as I sat down across her and waited patiently for her to speak. When that seemed unlikely, I decided to initiate conversation.<p>

"Have you eaten?"

"Mmhm." She replied, still not looking at me.

"Was it any good, the food?"

"It was all right."

"What's that you're holding?" I ventured, trying to get more than just one-word, generic answers from my sister.

"It's a letter," She sighed, tearing off little pieces of parchment from the corners and edges – a small pile of them lay on her unmoving lap. I ignored the fact that her answer was quite obvious and rather offensive to my intelligence.

"Oh. From whom?" I wondered.

"From the High King of Narnia." She replied dully, pulling off a particularly large chunk from the upper right corner.

My eyes widened. "_Really_? What did the High King say?"

"Everything I already know, except in a more obnoxious way." She groaned. "Read it, if you must. The thought of it sickens me. Once you're done, just toss it into the trash."

She handed me the letter, then began to tear up the small pieces of paper into more miniscule parts. To the sound of ripping parchment, I read the note from the High King of Narnia.

_I, Peter, by election and by conquest, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands, do formally invite the noble house of Archenland to reside in our kingdom, henceforth putting into effect the treaty of matrimony as agreed by both parties and their respectable councils. Sub-agreements - that is, open route trade and military aid - to the binding of both kingdoms follows as far as the former contract of alliance states, and will remain permanent for as long as the nuptial understanding is strictly followed. The treaty shall be void should the said matrimonial contract be nullified by intentional ignorance of Narnian law. _

"That certainly is… an eyeful," I murmured, taking another cursory glance at the writing to ward off the oncoming headache.

"It's pretentiously written, isn't it?" She grimaced sourly. "The High King sounds like a stuffy old fart."

"Now, Aaliyah," I warned, putting aside the letter and glancing at her reprovingly.

"We're alone, I don't have to mind my language."

"Yes, but you can't go around calling men you've never met stuffy, old… um…"

"Farts," she supplied helpfully.

"Yes, that." I rolled my eyes. "You can't go around calling people that. Especially not the High King of Narnia."

"Why not?" She frowned. "Just because he's _high_ and mighty – do excuse the pun – doesn't mean that he _can't_ be a stuffy old fart."

"Yes, but it's no use pointing it out, and it would be better to hold your tongue should you feel that a person is such." I concluded.

"Fine," She conceded, pushing the scraps of paper off her lap and onto the floor. I sighed and began to pick them up as she spoke. "But I won't try to hide that I think this is the most idiotic idea ever, and I still hate you all for putting me up like a sacrificial lamb."

"I don't expect you to hide it from any of us," I mumbled, trying to pick up a particular scrap that seemed to be glued to the floor. "Just from the High King. And his family. And his advisors. And basically everyone who doesn't know you well enough to understand your behavior."

"You can't possibly tell me that the High King is pleased about this arrangement?"

"I can't, I've never met him. And I don't know what kind of a person he is. And, to be honest," I admitted, straightening up. "That note he sent doesn't really sound like anything more than a statue penning an informatory letter."

"Well, there you go, you said it yourself," She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "The High King is just as miserable as I am."

"Hold on, I didn't say that at all," I frowned. "I'm sure the High King is patiently awaiting your arrival, and is reserving his judgment on the matter until he formally meets you. Also, I do believe that, on the occasion that it is bothering him, he wouldn't be complaining about it."

"And why ever not?"

"Well, because," I said, standing up and crossing the room to my own bed. "Because he's a good king and he knows what he's doing for his country."

She lapsed into silence, staring gloomily at the wall as though she were contemplating smashing it through and escaping into the woods.

"Got all your things packed and ready?" I asked, trying to shift the subject away from the only means of patriotism she didn't approve of.

"Sort of."

"We're leaving first thing tomorrow," I reminded her.

"Yes, yes. I'm all ready," She waved her hand dismissively at me. "All ready for the trip down to hell."

"Really, Aaliyah, is that necessary?"

"Yes, I do think it is," She yawned and slid down into a lying position, her hair splayed around her head as she stared up at the uninteresting ceiling. "What do you think the High King will be like?"

"I don't know. I hear he's young."

"How young? Young for a King? Say, thirty, thirty-five?" She estimated, wrinkling her nose. "Aslan forbid, forty?"

"No. Maybe twenty. But I can't say for sure."

"He writes a little too old for twenty," She commented, and I couldn't help but notice her insistence to perceive the negative in every word.

"Perhaps his advisors wrote it for him," I sighed, pulling off the sheets from my bed and laying down.

"Perhaps," She mused, then propped herself up on one elbow to look at me. "Victoria?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think the High King will… I don't know," She sounded uncomfortable. "Like me?"

I bit my lip in an attempt to suppress my laughter. "Why? Are you troubled that his impression of you might be negative? Surely that can't be due to the fact that you yourself are insisting that he's an abominable man, and you are now concerned that he feels the same about you."

"Well, no," She said quickly. "It was just a thought that passed my mind, that's all. Do you think so?"

"Well, if I were the High King, I would be very pleased upon meeting such a fine and educated woman with great ideals," I replied. "Does that answer please you?"

"Well enough, though I presume the bias is there."

"Think as you wish, but I assure you the High King will accept you graciously so long as you conduct yourself properly and carefully," I said, emphasizing the last three words.

"All right, all right. I will," She rolled her eyes, then inhaled deeply and blew out the candle with one quick breath. We were plunged into darkness, and I could see nothing but the surfaces lit up by the faint glow from the high, full moon. "Victoria?"

"Yes, Aaliyah?"

"I still think he's a stuffy old fart."

* * *

><p><strong>I know that this chapter was particularly short, but it was really more of a filler chapter than anything else - sort of like a transitional to the following events, in which the Archenland party arrives in Cair Paravel. I don't really like talking about travel time, it bores me a bit, and to be honest I wouldn't know what else to put in there as dialogue, and it's really tiresome to describe everything they see from point A to point B. So you'll see in the following chapter that they've already arrived at Cair Paravel, so as not to prolong the agony of both reader and writer when it comes to plot.<strong>

**So, a fair warning to people who expect a fanfiction of epic proportions - you'll notice that at points I'll slow down if things are interesting or really need a longer span of time for the "grand plan" to play out. But for the most part, it'll be a little faster paced - by this, I mean that there will be filler chapters/dialogues/scenes to diffuse tension and give the plan a bit of a break and to give the story a lighter feel, but I won't drag on those kinds of things for too long. Nor will it be too intricate, because the action of Victoria acting as Aaliyah and all other surrounding elements will already be a bit of a handful, so I don't want any of us to be juggling like ten sub-plots at a go.**

**All in all, this story is still developing, and as you read it, be assured that I am piecing together the next big events. Please leave a review, and let me know what you guys think, feel, or if you guys have any suggestions/criticisms. (: That's pretty much it for this author's note, I hope we'll have a great adventure in this work together.**

**All the best, **

**Aimee.**


	4. Chapter 3

Perhaps it had been the tiring journey, or perhaps it was really just the majesty of the view. Either way, Cair Paravel was a magnificent structure, one that could almost make you cry out of sheer awe. High ivory walls guarded the city, and every road was paved with smooth stone. The kingdom, with its towers and turrets, large windows and spires, was a sight to behold. Around it sprung tall trees and sprawling gardens of every imaginable color. The peninsula on which it stood had white-blue waves crashing around it. Everything was heartbreakingly picturesque, and I gasped quietly as it came into full view.

Aaliyah, who lacked the intense capacity to appreciate such a scene, stopped her horse (as she rode ahead of us) and turned to me.

"What's the matter? Are you all right?" She demanded, her eyes wild – perhaps not out of concern for me as much as it was the hope that something had gone terribly wrong and we'd have to go all the way back to Archenland. She had spent the earlier part of the ride complaining loudly, the mid part of it grumbling, and the latter part of it in silence – perhaps contemplating the best way she could make her escape, or just saving her breath for worse purposes.

"Nothing's the matter," I replied.

"Then why did you gasp?"

"Because Cair Paravel is so beautiful," I explained, though I thought this should be evident enough.

"Oh. Well. That seems an unreasonable thing to gasp about. But if you must, then…" She trailed off, then continued on the road, her head held high. Caleb rode up to my side, a smirk playing on his lips.

"How long until she breaks, do you think?"

"What?" I asked, appalled.

"I'll bet you on it," He continued, watching my sister with wary eyes.

"I'm not going to _bet_ on anything, Caleb; that would be an absurd waste of very valuable money. Furthermore, you should be supportive of Aaliyah, not trying to calculate when she'll snap and let loose all of her hellish rage."

"Alright. But considering the odds, I'd say that there's not too much to calculate."

I ignored this last jibe – still, Caleb who apparently found himself uncannily witty, chuckled under his breath the entire ride up to the grand entrance of Cair Paravel. A handful of stablemen and guards met us as we arrived, graciously offering to lead our horses to the stables. Aaliyah looked absolutely crestfallen, having to part with what could possibly the fastest means of escape, and even shot the stableboy leading her steed away a dark look that seemed to frighten him greatly. After this was done, we were led into the foyer, which was a great sight in itself. It seemed that majority of, if not the entire castle had been built with the finest white marble, and livened with the richest of décor.

"Oh, head's up, you two; old man walking our way rather quickly," Aaliyah hissed – we both looked up to see a finely dressed, elderly man striding purposefully over to us. With his right hand, he scratched the thin, white patch of stubble on his chin, as though in deep thought – or, perhaps, in the middle of a bad skin rash.

"Ah! A pleasure it is to have you in our humble kingdom, Prince and Princesses!" He exclaimed, clapping his hands together in obvious delight. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Brinn of the Council of Narnia, and of his High King."

At the sudden arrival of the Lord Brinn, we were rendered speechless. It was difficult to determine why – perhaps we were just too tired from the travel to respond properly. But Lord Brinn seemed expectant, awaiting our reply. Caleb seemed to come out of a deep, rather long stupor, closing his mouth, which had been slightly agape.

"Oh – yes, right. Er – yes. My name is Caleb, Prince of Archenland," He stuttered, rather caught off guard at being brought out of his trance so abruptly. After a sharp nudge from me, he added, "Oh, and yes. These are my sisters. Aaliyah and Victoria. Princesses, and all that."

"How eloquent of you, Caleb," I sighed, and he shrugged, like he couldn't help it.

"Wonderful, wonderful! Twins, I see. Which one is the bride? Very, very good to meet you, Princess; wonderful," He grasped my hand and brought it to his lips.

"Thank you, my Lord – however, I fear you are mistaken. Allow me to introduce my sister, Princess Aaliyah." I brought Aaliyah forward, who didn't look at all pleased. She seemed to have been hoping that she could just slip into the background unnoticed.

"Oh, yes, of course! How silly of me – Princess, an honor," He repeated his actions with her hand, though she received the gesture gracelessly – a surly look was plastered upon her face. "I hope your travels were well? Ah, but you must be tired – please show the Prince and Princesses to their rooms! We will call upon you later, your Majesties, if you please. For now, do make yourself at home – we extend our hospitality, that you may find your stay in Cair Paravel comfortable and pleasurable."

"Thank you, Lord Brinn," I gave a short curtsy, and Caleb bowed his thanks. It took a prompting, but Aaliyah managed an unhappy curtsy as well.

Two handmaidens bowed low before us, and gestured for us to follow them, while other servants hoisted up our embarrassingly heavy things, tucking our bags under their arms. All went quietly until we reached an intersection.

"Master Caleb, if you would follow me, please," The young handmaiden squeaked as Caleb began to turn right with us, into the east wing. He looked confused.

"Sorry?"

"Your quarters are down the west wing, sire."

"Oh." He blinked a couple of times, trying to let this information sink in. "Well – then, see you both. Don't have too much fun without me."

Looking rather disappointed at once again being isolated, Caleb trudged after the handmaiden, down the west wing. Aaliyah's face darkened considerably, and it was a relief when we arrived at our chambers – I don't think I could have stood her sulky expression for another minute, for fear of her bursting out into a fit of rage and humiliating all of us on our first day in Narnia.

The moment the handmaiden gave a low curtsy and backed out of the room, Aaliyah groaned and flopped herself upon the mattress of the bed. She lay quite still, not giving any sign that she would be moving any time soon. Patiently, I began to unpack, first her things, then mine. I placed everything in order, having a bit of a soliloquy as I did so, knowing she would begin wondering what I had done to her things in a day's time.

"And your jewelry box is on the dres – Aaliyah!" I stopped dead, paling at the sight of a sword hilt sticking out of her luggage. "What would possess you to bring a_ sword_ to Cair Paravel?"

"The desire to continue my training at any venue," She mumbled, her voice muffled. "Or will the High King deny me that right as well?"

"Oh, but we don't know how things work at his court, Aaliyah," I wrung my hands, vexed. Gingerly, as though it would begin to slice the air on its own, I picked up the sword, wrinkling my nose.

"We'd better have this hidden in a safe place. _Really_, though, Aaliyah. Can't you be a bit more practical about these things?"

"Just shove it in the wardrobe, it's not a big deal," She sighed, turning over onto her back.

"It is a big deal! It is a humongous deal," I argued, faint with worry.

"Well! Victoria, has Aaliyah finally convinced you to join her in the madness of her battle training? Or have you just taken a nice fancy to decorating your chambers with weaponry?" A new voice joined us, amused.

"Oh, Caleb – good, won't you keep this with you? It'll look less suspicious," I thrust the thing towards him, feeling a little sick. "Heaven knows what'll go around if the handmaidens clean and find this lying around a lady's chambers."

"Can't imagine what you would need a sword for here, though, Aaliyah," Caleb smirked, grasping it firmly. "Don't worry, it'll be safe with me."

"And where've they dumped you, then?" Aaliyah demanded, still staring intently at the ceiling.

"About ten doors into the west wing's main corridor. From what I understand, I've been placed in honorary chambers. I sincerely hope you envy me."

"And why would we envy your evident solitude?" Aaliyah snapped.

"Because from what I hear, I'm just around fifteen paces away from the young King's chambers. And perhaps another ten from that are the High King's chambers. I expect by tomorrow, we'll be the best of friends, jousting and all those other kingly things they do here in Narnia, whatever they may be."

"Oh, yes, I'm practically emerald with jealousy," She rolled her eyes. "I have no interest in being near the High King. In fact, the farther my quarters from his, the better."

"Keep it down, will you?" Caleb reprimanded her. "Why don't you just run around shrieking your hatred for the High King, then?"

"It's improper," She replied simply. Caleb could do nothing in his incredulity but roll his eyes pointedly.

At this moment, a handmaiden chose to appear, looking slightly breathless. We all turned to her, questioning.

"Forgive me, your Majesties. The Kings and Queens request your presence in their throne room, if it would please you," She said, panting a little.

"Thank you," I replied kindly. "Please inform their Majesties that we will arrive shortly."

"Yes, Princess," She whispered, then darted off.

"Maybe you two will. I rather fancy staying here." Aaliyah shifted in her position, looking supremely unconcerned.

"We've been summoned, Aaliyah. We have to go."

"She said they said _if it would please me_. It doesn't please me at all, so I don't think I'll be joining you. Do send the High King my regards, won't you?"

I planted my hands on my hips. "_Aaliyah._"

"All right, all right. I was only joking."

* * *

><p>We paused for a moment outside the throne room, and I turned to Aaliyah, who looked pained beyond words. I touched her shoulder, and she flinched, as though I had burned her.<p>

"It will be all right," I promised.

"All right, if you say so," She sighed. "But I won't speak, you know I'm rubbish at talking nicely. Could you do it for me?"

"I'll do my best. But you'll have to look a bit more enthusiastic than you do now, Aaliyah."

"But I'm really not enthusiastic," She complained.

"Then just try to look a bit more pleasant – please?" I begged. "You look as though you're about to execute the High King."

"Oh, good Lord. Don't bring that up. It'll plant such horrible thoughts in my head, and I can't have that. I'm in a horrid mood as it is." She grimaced.

"Smile just a little. If you can't manage it, then just look attentive," I smoothed out the creases on her skirt, and she attempted to lift her lips into a short, slightly forced smile. "That'll do."

"If you two are done clucking nonsense, there are people waiting for us," Caleb reminded.

The guards on either side of the entrance pushed the doors open, and we were greeted with the grandiose sight of the throne room of Cair Paravel. A large, polished marble floor spread to great measures, broken only by towering pillars that held up a high ceiling, lined with rich velvet curtains. Far back into the hall was a marble platform, on which sat four gold gilded thrones. Each were occupied, and the Kings and Queens stood in tandem as we ventured into the hall.

Lord Brinn appeared, taking his place at the bottom step of the platform and gesturing at each member of the royal family. "It pleases me greatly to introduce to the Kings and Queens of Narnia, the royal children of King Edward of Archenland – Prince and Princesses of the kingdom, Master Caleb, and his sisters, Lady Aaliyah, and Lady Victoria."

To my relief, Aaliyah curtsied as I did, though hers went along a little wobbly. No one else seemed to notice, though.

"Your Majesties, I speak for all of my siblings, and for my father as well, when I say that we are truly humbled to be in your presences, and truly grateful for your welcoming us into your fine kingdom," I said, keeping my eyes o the floor.

"And let me introduce the royal family of Cair Paravel," Lord Brinn continued. "Her Majesty, Queen Lucy the Valiant."

Queen Lucy was not what I had expected; though what I had expected, I did not specifically know. Whatever it may have been, it certainly was not a lovely, chestnut-haired child, with rosy cheeks and eyes like the brightest blue star. She must have been thirteen, fourteen at the most, only beginning her adolescent years. With an air of enthusiasm, she descended the marble platform and offered us all kisses on the cheek – even Caleb, who looked particularly shocked at this outgoing gesture.

"How lovely, to have you all in our court. I hope you all have a wonderful stay here," She clapped her hands together, nodded at the three of us, then returned to her throne.

"Her Majesty, Queen Susan the Gentle."

Queen Susan was considerably older than Queen Lucy, perhaps nineteen years in. She had a regal face as well as disposition - an air of grace and refinement touched every small movement she made. She did not make to step down, but curtsied at all of us, her long black hair cascading down her shoulders as she did so. Once she straightened up, she merely regarded us with eyes of startling, piercing grey.

Caleb and I exchanged a short look – perhaps, if she had been open to suitors, she would be the one Caleb would be wedding. He made a subtle face, and I shot him a warning look.

"His Majesty, King Edmund the Just."

The younger king, approximately seventeen years of age, stood, and descended from his throne, warmly greeting us with a small smile on his face. His hair matched the color of Queen Susan's, and his eyes were grey as well – though smoky, like diluted silver. There was a kindness in them, though there was a hint of calculating mystery behind them as well.

"Welcome," He murmured to each of us as he grasped Caleb's hand in a firm handshake, and pressed his lips to mine and Aaliyah's, who looked absolutely shot with boredom at this point in time. "If I may ask, which of your majesties will be wed to my brother?"

Reluctantly, Aaliyah raised her palm, as though sulkily reciting in class. He offered her a short look of assurance.

"A handsome match they have made. Thank you very much for coming."

He returned to his place, looking slightly thoughtful, though the smile never left his face.

"His Excellency, High King Peter the Magnificent," Lord Brinn concluded, and the last of the royalty descended the thrones.

A man of about twenty years, the High King stood rather tall and broad-shouldered, clearly a result of his battles. His posture read strong, unmoving. However, his face was curiously kind, though, at this point, it seemed rather unsure, bordering on apprehension. His hair was fair, and his eyes were blue, not unlike his younger sister, though his was deeper, more worn down with anxiety from ruling his kingdom. Like King Edmund, he took Caleb's hand and shook it. However, he did not greet us as his brother; instead, he bowed, rather awkwardly, at both of us. Aaliyah looked, for once, absolutely speechless. She might have assumed somehow that the High King would be a cackling old man with a long goatee and a large belly. Whatever the mental picture was, it must have made him more handsome, now that she was sure of what he looked like.

"It is my deepest honor to welcome you to my court," He said, rather quietly. "And I wish your stay in Narnia to be as comfortable as possible. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask."

It seemed a rather odd thing to end with, but perhaps he felt a little disturbed – after all, Aaliyah, who had recovered from her initial shock, was now trying to force out a bad smile at him, which looked more like a sarcastic death threat than a smile of thanks.

"Thank you, your Excellency, for having us," I curtsied once again, and Caleb bowed. Aaliyah, however, did not do so, no matter how hard I tugged on her skirt. When I looked up, I saw her, unmoving, staring directly ahead. Her head was held high, looking challenging, intimidating. A resolute expression was upon her face – it was clear she was giving the High King a challenge.

I looked at the High King, and, for a moment, I thought his face might have mirrored hers.


	5. Chapter 4

After more welcomes from both court and council, we were graciously dismissed with another round of wishes for our most comfortable stay. Aaliyah did not say a word after this, walking with a faraway expression, as though she were deep in thought. Both Caleb and I watched her carefully, to see if we had to brace ourselves for an outburst of loud and angry words. However, she remained curiously silent.

"Well, you two know where to find me," Caleb said, as we reached the point of parting ways. Shooting me a dangerously meaningful look before turning, he strode down the west wing with much purpose, his footsteps clicking against the floor until they faded into silence. I hurried after my twin, who had not even paused with so much as a parting glance towards our brother. She nearly shut the door in my face, due to her massive inattentiveness – luckily, I managed to squeeze through the gap before it closed, though I was none too happy for having to do so. My sister sat upon her bed, evidently somewhere else in thought.

"Well?" I demanded, after she made no move to speak.

"Well what?" She asked, obviously crashing back down to earth.

"What was that all about?"

"What? I behaved, didn't I?" She frowned, cross.

"Yes, but why did you glare at the High King? And why did you all but lock me out of our room?" I said, a little more offended upon asking the last question.

"Oh, well, I didn't mean to," She replied dismissively. "And I wasn't glaring at the High King. I was _assessing_ him."

"_Threatening_ was what I got from it."

"I was just checking to see if he would try something funny, like whack me across the forehead with a scepter, or something."

"_Aaliyah_," I shushed her, rather scandalized. "Honestly. He would never! Besides, he doesn't even have a scepter, to begin with."

"Yes, well, you can never be too careful when it comes to men," She shrugged, then lay down and shut her eyes. Silence followed, and she dozed off while I finished the unpacking process, washing my hands and face in the basin filled with cold water after doing so. I sat down on the bed and turned to her, her chest rising and falling slowly.

"The High King," I began, casually. "Is rather good looking. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm?" She opened one eye lazily. "Who?"

"High King Peter?"

"What about him?"

"Don't you find him good looking?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Though that doesn't seem to make me like him any more than I did before I knew what he looked like."

"I thought that the fact that he wasn't a middle-aged pig of a tyrant might quell a bit of your inborn hatred for him," I said dryly. "Though now I see that I am mistaken."

"The only comfort that gives me is that I can at least look at him without having to throw up all over his floor." She said waspishly. "He could honestly be the son of a god, but as long as I am being forced to wed him, I'm not sure I'll ever learn to appreciate him, whatever person he may be."

"That's a little uncalled for," I frpwned. "Especially since he's taken us all in quite hospitably."

"Because he has to." She snapped.

"No, it's because you are to be his bride, and so –"

"And so he has to," She repeated flatly. "No – Victoria! I'd rather not discuss the High King. All right? I won't stop you from revering the ground he walks on, or whatever it is we're meant to do, but don't drag me into this. You aren't the one being forced to marry him, so it would be a _very_ kind gesture if you'd just leave me to my business!"

With that, she turned onto her side and fell silent.

I frowned at her back, but did not say any more than, "All right. Well – I'll be with Caleb, if you ever need me."

She did not reply as I left the room and shut the door behind me.

* * *

><p>"Stop worrying so much, Victoria. Honestly, just – no, don't go <em>crying<em> again, there's no use in that, and you know it."

"Oh, Caleb," I hiccupped, mopping my eyes with a handkerchief. "This is awful. Not even a day into Narnia and she's already in the foulest mood."

"She's _always_ in a foul mood, you can't be too hard on yourself." He soothed, though I saw he was wary for when I would begin to weep again. "I'm sure she's just tired from all the travel."

"She despises the High King," I choked. "I don't know – Caleb, what if this is all ruined and we have to go back and just – oh!"

"Victoria – oh, _honestly_," He groaned, as I lapsed into another round of involuntary tears. "Listen to me, all right? She won't ruin it – even though she's cross, she understands that she's got more important things to do. She'll right herself, she knows what she's got to do."

"D'you really think so?" I said between sobs, wiping the streams of tears streaking down my cheeks.

"Yes. You best believe that I'm right as well. I am your older brother, after all," He grinned broadly, encouragingly. I smiled back, though it was watery.

"Thank you, Caleb."

"Of _course._ Now, _stop_ worrying your pretty little head, all right? There's a good girl," He planted a soft kiss on my forehead, just before a knock sounded from the other side of his door. Caleb stood to answer it, flinging it open, as we both assumed it was Aaliyah. However, upon doing so, he all but fell to his knees in shock at the newcomer.

"King Edmund," He murmured, abashed, then bowed low. I shot up from my seat, only to sink into a deep curtsy immediately after.

To our surprise, King Edmund let out a short, jolly laugh.

"Oh, really, there's no need for that!" He chuckled. "You're around five years my senior, and only about a head taller than me, aren't you, Prince Caleb? I daresay I should be making bows to you, since you are older. And the princess is only around Susan's age, isn't she? Yes – don't keep bowing, it makes me a bit uncomfortable, anyways."

Caleb and I straightened up, mildly puzzled. He smiled pleasantly at both of us, then asked, "So – excuse me for asking – but which one are you?"

"I am Victoria, your Highness."

"Right. You aren't the bride, are you?" He shook his head. "Sorry. It's really confusing. You both look the same. Well – _obviously_, since you're twins and all that bother. I should hope to pick you both out from one another eventually though, seeing as we're going to be family, one way or another. So – well, are you? The one to be married, that is."

"Er – no, King Edmund. The bride-to-be would be my sister, Aaliyah," I replied.

"Right. All right. Well. That'll take some getting used to," He mumbled under his breath.

"If it pleases you, sir, perhaps the best and only way to tell my sisters apart would be to share a word or two with them," Caleb suggested helpfully.

"Meaning what, exactly?" King Edmund's brow furrowed.

"Ah, yes, well, though they may look the same, I assure you that it will take only the blink of an eye to differentiate them both, based on their personalities," my brother explained. "Victoria here, she's a bit more suited for court – er, if you catch my drift, your Highness."

King Edmund waved away the last address. "Yes, I understand."

"Whereas Aaliyah," Caleb hesitated. "Well – she's… she can be a bit of a handful."

"Oh, _yes_," King Edmund's eyes widened in realization. "I don't suppose I imagined that rather astounding look on her face, just a while ago in court?"

I suppressed a grimace – Caleb merely smiled weakly, though that seemed enough to confirm the young king's assumptions.

"Not to worry, though," He added hastily. "I'm fairly – no, absolutely certain I was the only one who caught that."

"If I may ask, King Edmund," I piped up, after making sure he would say no more. "What – what does the High King think of my sister?"

"Peter?" He blinked. "I hardly think he has an opinion on the Princess as of the moment. I daresay he's experiencing the same difficulty telling you two apart."

A breath of relief escaped my lips.

King Edmund smiled. "You don't seem particularly bothered, Lady Victoria."

"Oh – well, no opinion leaves room for a better impression," I said quickly. "And a neutral impression is better than a negative impression, your Highness."

"Honestly, though, if you could kindly stop calling me all those fancy names, I would appreciate it," King Edmund frowned. "It feels like ten years added to my present age when I hear it, and I wouldn't want to feel like an old man."

I said nothing, only nodded.

"Oh, yes, the actual reason I'm here," He seemed to recall, shaking his head as though rattling his memories back to their original places. "I've been sent to invite you to a bit of a party – nothing too demanding, though. Just to formally welcome you all to Narnia. I daresay it would be rather rude for us not to throw a small feast for your arrival."

Caleb and I began to protest, as it was unnecessary and would cause them a lot of trouble. However, King Edmund raised his palms, cutting us short.

"It's settled, and there's no stopping it, really. Especially with Susan planning everything, she's been in a right state making sure everything's at it's best – er, even her siblings."

"Really, King Edmund, it is too much to ask of you," Caleb argued, though quite politely.

"No, of course it's not," He smiled. "I'm sure you would extend us the same courtesy, should we arrive at your court."

Caleb and I exchanged a look. We could not argue with this logic, for, if the royal family of Narnia had arrived in Archenland, a festival of sorts would more probably be arranged in their honor.

"Right, that's done, then?" King Edmund's grin broadened. "Someone will come to collect you for dinner – in the meantime, do feel free to make yourselves comfortable, perhaps familiarize yourself with Cair Paravel?"

He turned to open the door, letting himself out. Before shutting it close, he peered back in, saying, "Oh, if you should need anything, I'm only a few rooms down. Have a good day!"

With a jolly wave, he left us alone in Caleb's room.

"King Edmund certainly poses as quite a character, doesn't he?" Caleb muttered.

"He is a kind gentleman," I agreed.

"Very young, though, isn't he? For a king, that is."

"But he governs very well," I countered, frowning. Caleb laughed.

"Yes, well, I hadn't said anything against his governance, had I? Just pointing out the facts, and all that," He walked to his bed and lay down, yawning widely. "You should probably rouse Aaliyah, and tell her about the feast. Especially with how long you women take fussing about your gowns and corsets and all those horrid things."

"She won't be pleased," I said grimly. "Not just about the feast. She's got to behave, and she despises having to do that."

"Yes, well, the more time you'll have to calm her, the better. I wouldn't dawdle, if I were you," He added as I began to exit his room.

"I wonder," I replied, frowning. "How you would fare, having to deal with her?"

"Oh, good lord. Aslan forbid I should ever have to right her, lest I be forced to pin her hands behind her back and clamp her mouth shut all day."

"I don't suppose you'd want to give it a try?"

"No, I wouldn't. Thank you for the offer, though, that's quite thoughtful," He chuckled. I left the room, closing the door as he called out: "You, good lady, are a saint beyond any measure!"

* * *

><p>It had, as expected, taken a lot of coercing on my part to finally convince Aaliyah to join the celebration. Preparing for it had taken a large amount of time, as she had stopped completely in the process of doing so and announced that she had changed her mind, and that she would not being going, and the High King could whack her with a scepter and she still would not go. Still, when the handmaid arrived to announce that we were to proceed to the dining hall, she contented herself with a sulky sort of look and trooped out of the room, with me at her heels.<p>

Caleb was already there when we arrived, seated between an empty chair, and King Edmund, who was to the High King's right. To King Peter's left was another empty chair, beside which was Queen Susan, who was chatting with Queen Lucy. My brother looked up at King Edmund's word, and smiled at us both, though the relief was evident in his eyes – we, or Aaliyah at least, had arrived without a big scene.

"They can't honestly expect me to sit there, do they?" She hissed, glaring at the empty seat beside the High King. I shot her a rueful smile.

"Unfortunately, you must."

"Wonderful," She snapped, and stalked haughtily off to her place. She sat down without so much as a hello to anyone, looking quite unapproachable. The High King glanced at her for a moment, then turned back to staring out into the dining hall as though he had not done so.

"She's clearly showing everyone the best side of her, wouldn't you agree?" Caleb muttered, as I slid into my seat. I nodded, pursing my lips.

"Princess Victoria," King Edmund greeted.

"A good evening to you, King Edmund," I smiled.

"I see your sister has finally emerged from her hiding place. I daresay she doesn't look too excited, wouldn't you agree?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. My smile then somehow felt strained, and I answered with weak confidence.

"It is my fault, King Edmund. I'd unthinkingly awoken her from a slumber she deserved after such a tiring travel. But I assure you, she is very pleased to be here."

"Of course. From what I understand, your sister is very good company," He smiled, then leaned back in his chair, retracting himself from the conversation. I eyed Caleb, who shrugged helplessly.

"With the way she's being, I'd say she could do with a bit of me talking her up to everyone. I'm not spreading lies," He added, after I opened my mouth to speak. "Just sort of – well, stretching the truth."

"Well, word of mouth can only go so far," I sighed. "She's got to pull a bit of the weight too."

"Yes, well, that's beyond me, now isn't it?"

Before I could say anything else, a loud clinking, the sound of silverware tapping crystal, rang through the dining hall. A hush fell over the table, and over the people gathered in the room.

King Peter shared a short conversation with King Edmund, who seemed to be speaking rather agitatedly. Waving away something the younger king had just said, the High King stood, and looked out upon the crowd.

"My good Narnians," He addressed them, his eyes traveling over the heads of those seated, looking up at him expectantly. "It is my honor to welcome the Prince and Princesses of Archenland to our kingdom of Cair Paravel. Let us all do our part in making our privileged guests welcome in our good country."

The Narnians brought their hands together to clap for us, a polite sound that echoed through the hall. The High King seemed to struggle with thinking of something else to follow up his words, decided against speaking entirely, and sat back down, merely nodding at Lord Brinn, who sat in the table directly across us, as he did so.

"In honor of our guests we have prepared this celebration," Lord Brinn boomed. "And I daresay we have kept them waiting long enough! Let the feast begin!"

Another round of applause, considerably louder this time, came from the crowd – though it was short lived, as the service had begun, and young maidens were hurrying across the hall with dishes to serve everyone as quickly as possible. A separate group approached us, bearing plates as well – the High King was served first, then his brothers and sisters, then my siblings and I.

Aaliyah leaned forward in her seat and tried to make a short, sort of unpleasant face in mine and Caleb's direction – however, at this point in time, the High King chose to turn to her, and begin a quiet sort of conversation from which she could not escape.

Over his wine glass, Caleb made a satisfied snort of laughter, and I caught a small, triumphant smirk playing on King Edmund's lips.

The dinner carried on, without much event. Between courses I glimpsed a very quick exchange of words between my sister and King Peter – though I could not readily assume things were going very well, I could at least be satisfied that she had refrained from making unhappy expressions down the length of the table.

Caleb and King Edmund had undoubtedly become quite engaged in their own conversation – hearty bouts of laughter sounded from beside me, courtesy of the two men to my left.

"I see," I heard King Edmund say as our plates were taken away, and replaced by an unfamiliar form of dessert. "And this Lady Layla – is she your betrothed?"

"Not officially, no," Caleb replied. "Though I wouldn't put that past her – you know how women are, when it comes to marriage! They'll chase you to the ends of the earth until you tire of running and they can finally ensnare you into the horrid prospect of commitment!"

They shared another round of guffaws, though I thought this was rather untruthful of Caleb to say – after all, it was he who had been absolutely smitten with Lady Layla, and had courted her ceaselessly. Then again, he could never know what kind of a lady she was, since the fact that she had frequent night strolls to meet with the duke of something-or-other was not a topic they had ever discussed.

"And what about the Princess?" King Edmund leaned forward in his seat and addressed me. "Have you a nobleman as well, Princess?"

"Oh no," I smiled. "Not at all."

"If it please you, King Edmund, I've sent off one sister to the end of her maiden days – I should like to hold on to the other for a little longer!" Caleb chortled.

"As you should, Prince Caleb," King Edmund chuckled, and the conversation came to a close at that, with us slowly consuming our dessert in some form of silence.

I was halfway through when I heard a chair screech as it was pushed back, and I heard Aaliyah say, "If you would just excuse me, King Peter – I'd like to have a word with my sister."

I did not know if the High King replied, as Aaliyah materialized at my side, tugging on my arm violently. I stood and let her half-drag me out of the dining hall, following her as she made her way into a ladies' powder room.

"Aaliyah – _what_ are you doing?" I demanded, as she did a quick survey to make sure we were alone. She turned to me, her expression half-crazed.

"I can't _stand_ it! Please – just kill me," She begged, a madwoman in the making.

"Can't stand what?" I asked, choosing to ignore that last part.

"Everything! Having to sit still, having to speak demurely, having to _speak at all_ – Queen Susan won't talk about anything but wedding plans and King Peter keeps asking _if the food and company are to my liking_. Like my feelings for the food and company change every few minutes!"

"They do switch between courses," I pointed out, and she threw her hands above her head.

"I'll lose my sanity if I have to sit there again, Victoria! Please – do something!"

"What can I do, Aaliyah?" I groaned. "If I could help you, I would, but I can't! I would gladly let you take my place beside the two men talking hatred for marriage, but seeing as that cannot be…"

"I wouldn't mind slap-talking marriage at all," She mused, then a light fell upon her face as her eyes widened. "And… I could, if – if… Oh, Victoria! Thank Aslan – quick, take off your gown!"

"_I beg your pardon?_" I gasped, scandalized.

"Oh, don't you see?" She breathed excitedly. "It's perfect! We could switch places – just for tonight, please! Oh, please, Victoria?"

"Absolutely not!" I said firmly. "No – Aaliyah – _No_."

"Look, all you have to do is endure all that fussy court talk – you've had years of practice, you've mastered the art," She began to shamelessly undress, and I cast a panicked look around the room. "Quickly – in case someone comes in!"

"No – put your clothes back on, this isn't proper at all," I took a step back.

"Just do it for me – no one will notice the difference-"

"Caleb will notice!"

"Caleb won't rat us out, he's very smart about these things. Please? Just for tonight! I promise you – just do it for me, as a favor? For your _sister_?" She pleaded.

I shook my head. "No. Absolutely not."

* * *

><p>Aaliyah and I entered the dining hall, quietly making our way back to the high table without any major disruption to the celebration. Aaliyah's hand slipped away from my arm as we arrived at her seat, and she beamed.<p>

"Lady Victoria," King Edmund greeted. "We had just begun to wonder where you and your sister had gone. I hope you are well?"

Aaliyah took a seat beside Caleb, still smiling. "Oh yes. Aaliyah had a small problem – but that's all sorted now. Have we missed anything?"

"No, not at all," He smiled.

Aaliyah's eyes darted to me, and I flushed – with heavy steps, I walked down the table and slide into the seat that had formerly been my sister's.

"I hope you are well, Princess Aaliyah?" Queen Susan asked, her voice soft, like a whisper.

"Yes," I squeaked, my voice much too high. "Yes – She – I mean, I-I'm fine."

"You are well enough to dance?" She asked.

"To w-what?" I choked.

"Dance," Queen Lucy repeated, smiling brightly at me, though she faltered as she saw my chalk-white face. "Are you well, Princess Aaliyah? You look rather pale."

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, thoroughly embarrassed. "I just – just rather, er – warm. Yes. That's right. Warm."

"Yes," Queen Susan said slowly. "It is, tonight."

"If you aren't well, Princess, perhaps you would like to retire early?" Queen Lucy said, concerned. I shook my head.

"No, I am fine. Please, carry on."

"Then, shall we begin?" Queen Susan turned to the minstrels, and, with her nod, they began to play an unfamiliar ballroom tune. "It is tradition to dance at every Narnian celebration."

"Of course," I said, though I began to feel rather faint once again.

"Peter?" Queen Lucy beamed. "If you please."

At her prompting, the High King turned to me, and, with a rather unfathomable expression, said, "Princess Aaliyah – it would be a humble honor to open tonight's dance with you."

Everyone seemed to be waiting for my reply, and I felt the heat rising up my neck.

"As it would be mine, High King Peter," I managed to mumble out, and we stood, with him leading me out to the center of the hall. There was applause as, unsmiling, he took my waist, and led me through the motions of a common Narnian dance. Too focused on trying not to be found out, I kept my head slightly bent, my eyes downcast as though raising them would reveal my true identity.

More applause signaled the entrance of the others at the high table – Queen Lucy had graciously taken King Edmund as her partner, while Caleb had chosen to ask Queen Susan, who looked rather surprised as he led her out. Aaliyah, however, had somehow escaped and managed to stay seated, watching rather amusedly. More Narnians joined in the dance, until the hall held a massive crowd of twirling bodies.

I was surprised when the High King began to speak. "Are you all right, Princess?"

"Oh, yes," I answered quickly, trying to sound more lively.

"Forgive me – you did not seem too keen to dance, but I thought it… appropriate," I could hear him choosing his words carefully.

"On the contrary, your Highness, nothing gives me greater pleasure," I replied.

"Really?" King Peter sounded rather shocked. "I was under the impression that – well, never mind. Perhaps it was my fault."

"Oh, no!" I began to panic. "Why would that be?"

"You seemed rather uncomfortable when I addressed you earlier – I might have bothered you, and I apologize."

Oh, _Aaliyah_. Was it necessary that you show your displeasure to the High King?

"I assure you, High King Peter, it was no bother at all. Forgive me – I was not feeling too well, and so found need to excuse myself," I explained, casting a short glance at my sister, who grinned broadly at me from her place in the high table.

"I see," He replied, rather puzzled. "Then – I hope you find yourself well now?"

"Yes, your Majesty," I answered.

After a moment's pause, he said, "Your brother seems keen to share a dance with you. If you will excuse me, Princess…"

With that, he backed away, bowed low as I curtsied, and took Queen Susan's waist as Caleb took mine – my brother spun me around, slightly more forcefully than necessary.

"Tell me, _sister_," He hissed meaningfully, "What in Aslan's good name are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling another spell of physical weakness coming on.

"I've lived with you for nineteen years, it'll take more than a switched dress to fool me," He snapped. "I'd like to know why you're here apparently seducing the High King while the _actual_ bride has excused herself from dancing with him because she's _feeling quite faint_."

I blanched. "Oh god – does he know?"

"Who? The High King? No, of course not! But I do, and I'd like to know what's going on!"

"It was just for tonight," I breathed. "Only for tonight. She was desperate – she couldn't stand it, she didn't know how to react any more… We just switched for now – it won't happen again and, oh, please don't tell High King Peter!"

"Of course I won't! Why would I tell him?" He frowned. "This had better be the first and the last time – I tell you, if you keep doing it they'll notice something's not right and they're not idiots. We don't want any more trouble than the amount Aaliyah's bound to cause. All right?"

"All right," I whispered. He nodded, then stepped away.

"And, Aaliyah," He said, as he took Queen Lucy's waist, and King Edmund approached to take mine. "Make sure you tell Victoria as well."


End file.
